


What’s Lost (Is Found)

by paisparker



Category: The Goldfinch - Fandom
Genre: Amsterdam, Engagement Party, F/M, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Rewrite, The Goldfinch, ambiguous ending, boreo, kiss, tgf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 09:20:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20812739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paisparker/pseuds/paisparker
Summary: He was ready to fly across the globe and back, if it meant to get back what was once lost; whether that was the painting or what the two of them once had as young and damaged boys, well that was a mystery—and maybe it was both.or if the engagement party went slightly different





	What’s Lost (Is Found)

Boris’s chapped, bruised lips—which were as such from constantly gnawing on them in nervous habit, were hovering less than a centimeter away from Theo’s own, which were split and pale from the dizzy-caused stress of the night, and countless drugs which had entered his bloodstream.

It was his engagement party, and he knew he should be dancing with Kitsey in her beautiful dress, instead of swallowing down glasses of expensive champagne next to his long lost friend—brother practically, although as he said time and time again like a mantra to himself, there really was no word to describe the connection he had with Boris. 

He could feel the Ukrainian man’s breath, husky and warm against him, and with a jerky movement, surrounded by the echoing voices of the ballroom, lips collided; the bitter taste of alcohol and cigarettes, mixing with sweetness of chocolate flavored deserts that Boris delighted himself with, lingered on their tongues. 

No one could see them, they were standing behind a navy, velvet curtain by the door, sheltering themselves off from the rest of the people—strangers to them, but here despite that fact. And although he knew that the world around them was blind to the kiss, still panic bubbled in Theo’s stomach, or maybe that was the sloshing of the drinks on his empty stomach. 

It was only mere seconds, but to him it felt like hours: long, suffocating hours, from the stolen air of their intertwined lips. He could register the fact that he was kissing Boris back, but like hell he would admit that to anyone out loud, and he hated that he was. How long had it been, since they had last done this? That was a silent, stupid question, as he knew the answer. 

That night long ago on the side of the street, seemed like a fever dream these days, but it was one he could never shake, always remembering. The way he hoped the driver hadn’t seen them, and the crushing loss in Theo’s chest, knowing that was the last time he’d see the pale, gangly boy in his messy hair glory—or so he thought.

They pulled away from each other, but Boris came right back to him, like magnets. Theo was tall enough now, to where the latter could rest his head, right on the junction of his neck and shoulder, and that’s what Boris did.

He could feel the shaky breathing from the man, pillowing alongside his skin, a few shades darker than the brunette’s own. 

“I am sorry, for what I have done to you. I regret, every day. But listen to me with this, Potter; I never, regret you. I will get your bird back safely, I promise.” Boris spoke gently to him, in a way in which the pain was evident in his voice. 

Theo couldn’t help but feel inside of him, that he agreed. Not a moment between the two of them did he ever once regret—even the messy murky parts of them. “But to do this, we must go. Now.” 

Theo pulled back and looked at him, both their eyes with relief that they had each other once more, but also fear, for not knowing how long it’d last.

“Where?” He asked, confused, but ready to fly across the globe and back, if it meant to get back what was once lost; whether that was the painting or what the two of them once had as young and damaged boys, well that was a mystery—and maybe it was both.

“Amsterdam.”

**Author's Note:**

> just a little drabble idea I had :)  
twitter: @ TyrusPapyrus  
tumblr: @ TyrusPapyrus  
instagram: @ vizvids


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